


A Morning

by WritingQuill



Series: (30) Days of Johnlock [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Breakfast, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mornings, Routine, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day sixteen: during their morning rituals </p><p>A good old Thursday morning in Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry for being late with this. But, hey, it's still the 16th somewhere, right?

His alarm beeped and John awoke with a start. Normally he would have woken up before the alarm rang, but he was having such a nice dream and his subconscious was just floating in a sea of warmth and bliss. He blinked once, twice and yawned, running a hand through his face as he sat up on the bed. Curled up next to him was a sleeping consulting detective. Sherlock’s face was relaxed and vulnerable, and John loved that Sherlock trusted him enough to allow himself to be like that. John knew Sherlock wouldn’t be up until at least eight, and he did deserve the sleep, what with the case they had just finished the night before. 

So John planted a chaste kiss atop Sherlock’s messy curls and got off the bed, shrugging into his tartan flannel dressing gown. He went straight to the bathroom, where he took off his robe, placed it on the hook behind the door, and proceeded with his hygienic morning ritual: wash the face with cold water, (every other day only) shave the stubble and sideburns, wash face again with warm water, brush teeth thoroughly and run a small brush through the hair to untangle any possible knots and look a bit more presentable. With that finished, John put his dressing gown back and made his way into the kitchen, where he put the kettle on to make coffee and started to make his breakfast — usually, when they didn’t have a case and it was a week day, said breakfast would include two slices of toast, scrambled egg, an apple or orange, coffee and a large glass of water. This took him about twenty minutes to prepare, so by the time John had finished eating, the paper had already been delivered downstairs. 

John climbed down the stairs to the foyer of the building, where he found Mrs Hudson chatting with the Royal Mail woman. John smiled at them both, picked up the letters and The Independent, and returned to 221b. He set the mail down at the coffee table for later, made himself a cup of tea (he had at least three cups of tea before lunch time, even with a case on) and then sat on his chair, where he proceeded to read the newspaper. Always in a very specific order: World, UK, Science, Business (though he usually skipped that one), Entertainment and Sport. He then proceeded to read the columns he enjoyed (he rather liked Robert Fisk and his columns on the Middle East). That took him about forty minutes, so when John was done, he put the paper away, placing it on the small table by Sherlock’s chair, and went back into the kitchen to make Sherlock some breakfast. It had become a routine of sorts for them. John would prepare breakfast, making sure Sherlock ate at least a bit, and Sherlock would provide them with dinner, either at Angelo’s or a take-away they both enjoyed. When he was feeling particularly whimsy, Sherlock was even able to cook quite well, but he generally deemed it boring and saved it for special occasions, like their anniversary or John’s birthday. 

At 8AM, John heard the distinctive sound of a consulting detective waking up. Sherlock yawned quite loudly — he started to be more open around John after they got together — then stood up quickly, stretched his neck and went into the bathroom. There, he would work on his hair — because the elegantly dishevelled look didn’t just _happen_ — and shave (but only because it was Thursday), then brush his teeth even more thoroughly than John. With all that finished, he strode towards the kitchen and propped himself on one of the chairs closest to the kitchen counter. John always greeted him with a smile and a wink. 

‘Morning,’ he said happily. Sherlock smiled back, but only slightly, because it took him about thirty minutes after waking up for the cranky to go away. In front of him, John placed a plate with two slices of toast, one covered in blueberry jam and he other with marmalade, along with a cup of tea (three sugars and a dash of milk). He leaned down and gave his partner a peck on the lips before going back into the bathroom for a shower. Even though he didn’t work on Thursdays, John always felt the need to shower in the morning. He didn’t like feeling sweaty from sleep or even dirty in any ways. Sherlock had a theory that after he returned from Afghanistan, John’s subconscious decided it wanted to indulge in what it couldn’t in the desert, so he took two showers a day — even during the winter — and had at least one bath every two weeks. 

Sherlock munched on his breakfast slowly, waking up a bit more with every bite. He sipped his tea carefully, avoiding burns, and at the crusts of the toasts first, leaving only the delicious, fully-covered middles for last. Sherlock then finished his breakfast and sighed once more, ruffling his hair a bit and standing up, walking towards his leather chair, where he picked up the paper and went through the World and London news — he never bothered with the rest, though he secretly read Fisk’s column because he knew John liked him. 

By the time John got out of the shower, wearing only his dressing gown and slippers, hair still wet, Sherlock had finished reading the newspaper and was preparing to continue his experiment of the day before. John stopped before him and smiled. 

‘Good morning, love,’ he said with a cheeky grin. Sherlock always smiled back, leaning down, wrapping his arms around John’s waist, and kissing him with all the passion he could muster at 9AM.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it. Have a lovely day! Cheers :)


End file.
